


And Now For Something Completely Different

by insaneshadowfangirl



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aged-up Frisk, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Chara and Frisk Share a Body, Daily Reminder that not all Frisks are Nice, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Ecto-Tentacles (Undertale), Ecto-Vagina (Undertale), Frisk is a Little Shit, Gags, Genocide Frisk, Nonbinary Chara and Frisk, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Other, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Tentacles, The One Where Frisk is Better at Evil than Chara, Underfell Frisk, Underfell Sans, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 15:52:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7940359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insaneshadowfangirl/pseuds/insaneshadowfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisk is bored, Chara is boring, and Sans is having a bad time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Now For Something Completely Different

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Askellie (NadaNine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/gifts).



> Just so you guys know, Frisk is around sixteen-nineteen. Sans just keeps calling them ‘kid’ because he doesn’t know their age.
> 
> @askellie wants porn? Have some porn. Hope this meets your standards, Senpai.

Frisk sat on a tree branch, chewing their gum.

(You’re really… Boring.)

Chara takes extreme offense to their claim, shrieking in the back of the teenager’s mind as they watched the awful, violent little beasts that gave true meaning to the word 'monster’ run about the nearby town, living their nasty little lives in a world where there was more dust than snow in the sleepy little town of Snowdin. /You dare-/

Frisk blew a bubble. (All you ever do is knifey-knifey slashy-slashy. It’s always the same things with the same people. It’s _boring_.)

/Well I’d like to see you do better./

Frisk smirked. Finally, after hundreds upon hundreds of endless loops– A challenge.

1234567890

/I don’t see how this is different./ Chara grumbles as Frisk waltzes into the Judgement hall. Most every monster is dead, killed in much the same way as usual. Dust cakes upon their sweater.

(True art requires a very special subject.)

Chara instantly takes an interest. /Are you going to do something special with the comedian, then? I never liked him. Weak. Pathetic. Always so nervous, getting pushed around by that dumb Papyrus./

Frisk laughs. The sound echoes in the seemingly empty hall. “Come out, Sansy. I know you’re there. I can see the floof of your coat, dear.” And they can, the skeleton is not very good at hiding. The pillar is far too narrow.

There’s an inhuman snarl and the skeleton attacks without a word, flying at them with a bone raised. The fight is on, and Frisk’s blood rushes with the adrenaline. Sans is always a joy to battle, despite his general patheticness.

Frisk, though, had noticed something Chara had overlooked.

“So, Sansy, how does it feel?” The human taunts “What do you think when you watch your 'Boss’ die over and over and over again?”

Sans throws so many bones that it wouldn’t take more than a few mistakes to send Frisk back to their save point. But they’re well-practiced, and the attacks are dodged.

Sans is clearly not in the mood for conversation.

/You think he remembers the resets?/

(Oh, I _know_ he remembers the resets.)

Frisk wears him down, watching and waiting as he expends more and more energy he doesn’t have.

Maybe they’re a little obsessed, but they’ve been watching him. While Chara skirted along the beaten path, killing everyone that came near, Frisk watched. They waited. They practiced.

They planned.

And so they knew that Sans didn’t have this kind of stamina.

And they were right, of course. It wasn’t long until he announced his 'special attack’.

“You’re just gonna sit there and do nothing, huh?” Frisk laughed before he could explain further. “You’re out of magic.” Their smirk widens. “Just fall asleep, Sansy. We both know it’s gonna happen.”

“fuck you, kid.” Sans snaps, even as he takes a seat. It’s true, after all. He’s exhausted.

Frisk leans against the side of the box and shuts their eyes. Soon, they won’t have to be constantly looking over their shoulder, worried about attack. Soon, it’ll be just them… And Sans. And they can’t wait to break the comedian.

It’s not long before they hear the soft, high-pitched snoring that signifies Sans has lost the battle with sleep. They crack open an eye– Nope, he’s not faking.

Perfect.

It takes them a minuscule amount of time to bind him and clap the magic surpressor they’d found in Papyrus’s shed around his cervical vertebrae. They take a bit of time to drag him through the nearly empty Underground, eventually arriving in Snowdin and dumping him in the basement of his own home.

They’ll be back in a little while, but first they need to take care of the rest of the monsters and make absolutely certain they can do what they’ve been practicing.

1234567890

Sans had woken up days ago, to find himself trapped in the basement, wearing one of Boss’s suppressors under his collar and bound so tightly there was no hope of escape.

He had no idea how he’d gotten here. At first he’d thought that the kid had reset and Boss had put him down here, but as time passed and he grew hungry and cold and even weaker than usual, he’d begun to get a sinking feeling.

And now, he knew why.

The kid struts down the stairs, eyes glinting red in the limited light. “Morning, Sans!” Dust is caked on their sweater, and they are grinning ear to ear.

“what the fuck is goi-” He chokes on his demand as an electric blue tendril of magic shoves itself between his teeth, stretching his jaw wide.

“You talk too much.” Frisk hisses, jumping the last few steps. “This isn’t about you, darling. This is about me. And I am going to utterly DESTROY you. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be eating out of my hand.” They tilted their head like a curious child. “I’m going to have lots of fun, Sansy.”

The tentacle writhes in his mouth, and Sans can see the human’s hand glowing, directing the magic as skillfully as any monster.

“Your brother was a bit of a degenerate.” Frisk says conversationally, dropping a bag onto the floor and removing a bright red bar of rubbed with straps attached. “Wonder who he used this on? Or who used this on him?” They laugh again at the indignant noises he makes through the magic invading his mouth. He can’t even bite down on it, it’s got his teeth so spread.

The magic slides out of his mouth and he barely has time to spit out a few curses before it’s replaced with the red rubber gag. Frisk seems positively tickled at his glare as they give him a mocking pat on the head. “Here you are, darling.”

He flips them the bird with his bound hands and their grin only widens. With a few deft flicks of their knife, his shorts fall to the floor in tatters, and his eyelights widen.

The human hums to themself as the summon a few tentacles made of blue determination, and Sans shrieks through the gag as they begin feeling around his pelvis, lifting him into the air and winding around his wrists and ankles and ribs and it’s too much TOO MUCH–

The bonds are torn away but replaced with the squirming, exploratory magic, and Sans is helpless against the assault as more and more join in, wrapping around his soul. He can’t think straight, is losing himself to the sensations, he can hear himself moaning like a whore–

And then one of them goes straight into his eye socket and he screams. It hurts, like nothing he’s ever felt before, and the human is giggling and he’s making desperate pleading noises, unable to pull away from the intruder.

“So you want me to take it out, Sansy?” He hears the human as if from miles away. He nods frantically, the pain increasing tenfold as the squirming appendage delves deep into his skull and then forces its way out of his other socket. He’s sobbing, he can’t see, and he can’t hear all of what the human is saying. He catches that they want him to do something in return, and he nods consent without caring what it is. It’s not as if it can be any worse.

The magic vanishes from his eyes, and he sobs in relief.

That relief is short-lived, as out of the corner of his blurred vision he sees Frisk approaching with an axe.

Before he can protest, there’s more _pain_ , and he’s screaming as one of his femurs and the foot attached fall to the ground.

Yellow magic is quickly applied to the remaining stump before his HP can even drop, and the pain fades, leaving him one-legged and even more helpless.

He makes a confused noise, and Frisk singsongs, “You agreed to it, Sansy.”

They’d cut off one of his legs.

Sans realizes only then that this isn’t a temporary thing. Thanks to their SAVE ability, the kid has eternity to break him, to turn him into whatever they want him to be.

He feels fingers running along his pelvic inlet, teasing and trying to coax him into forming an entrance.

Sans gives in. They’d get what they wanted eventually, so why make it hurt more? Red magic swirls around his pubis, forming into a pretty little mound that made the human hum in approval. They reached into the bag and drew out a large vibrator along with a bunch of tangled cords attached to small egg-like devices.

The tentacles are still prodding at every sensitive part of his body, still holding him in the air. He’s getting pretty worked up, but the kid has no intent to let him come right now. They just want to tease. It’s starting to hurt, especially now that he’s summoned a cunt.

Frisk leans over him, taping the beads all over the place, and then slides the dildo inside of him. It’s uncomfortable, this entire situation is painful and humiliating and he’s genuinely afraid of this kid, he’s terrified. And he’d thought it was bad when they were killing everyone, but now this is so much more personal and it’s not going to end anytime soo-

All rational thought flies out the window as the vibrators all buzz to life at once and he wails, muffled by the gag. The tentacles set him down on the floor, gently, and vanish, except for six that pin him spread on the floor at each of his wrists and ankles, around his cervical vertebrae and lower spine.

He hears but doesn’t really understand, too far gone, as Frisk speaks.

“Did you know that machines can’t have any intent? And monster sex is all about intent, I’ve done the research.” Their footsteps start to move away. “A monster can’t come unless that’s their partner’s intent.” They start to climb the stairs. “I’ll be back in a day or two. Hang in there, Sansy!”

The door to the upstairs slams, and Sans is left alone, writhing helplessly in his bonds as pleasure and pain course through him.


End file.
